


The Fool

by Teawithmagician



Series: Angel and Storm [1]
Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Awkwardness, F/M, First Love, Love Confessions, Post-X-Men: Apocalypse (2016), School, Teenagers, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-21 22:13:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7407139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teawithmagician/pseuds/Teawithmagician
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ororo didn't know why she was spending so much time with that fool Warren. Maybe it had just become a habit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fool

**Author's Note:**

> AU Apocalypse post-canon where Angel survives, gets to Xavier's school - and so does Ororo.

Now we would make a perfect couple,  
except, unfortunately, you.

 

 

“You are a fool,” Ororo said. Warren thrilled with anger and exaltation, his sweater was soggy with rain. The rain lashed the crowns of the oaks, the sea of green stormy – the school bathed in it. So much green Ororo couldn't get accustomed to. Sometimes she opened the window In the dormitory and hang out of it, abutting her elbows into the windowsill, and looked around, breathing deeply.

A sea of green, smelling fresh and pure. It was good to be rich like Xavier. Ororo didn't have decided for herself yet if Xavier was an asshole like all the fat cats. Th fact he fought Apocalypse didn't make him less an asshole. But even if he was a moron, he was an alright moron.  
Unlike Warren.

“If he tells me a fucking word, I'll knock his teeth out,” Warren promised, still thrilling. He was so angry he would steam like a tea-pot. His knuckles were rigged off, they regenerated slowly.

“You are big and stupid, big and stupid,” Ororo scolded, taking his hand. “You get wet, you get sick, you die and I am alone – it'll be dull shit. Let's go.”

“God I swear I'll knock his teeth out,” Warren growled, pulling his arm. Ororo wanted to cuff on Warren's nape but held back. She controlled herself quite well if she wanted to. That made the storms even stronger.

“We are strangers here,” Ororo crammed Warren while they were getting to the kitchen's back door. Ororo told Warren he needed coffee. She lied, it was she who wanted coffee – from a real coffee machine which buzzed and blinked, and did everything by itself. “Behave, if you don't want to be kicked out.”

“Fuck this shit,” Warren snapped, his wings twitching. When the metal came off, they were like of a plucked dove's. The feathers grew so slow, a wing in a weak. Ororo considered it fast, though, but Warren raved about it's too slow and looked for a fight. He mostly found Summers – and Summer was always ready for it.

“What a barrow,” shiny black professor's car drove out of the garage. Not a scratch, so clean like it was licked out, and all the trinkets glistened like silver. Ororo would take a ride with that baby. Warren said they need to steal the keys (beating the shit out of Summers firstly), Ororo hemmed – she could make the thing move with no keys, but she didn't want to.

No doing crap where you live. Find a place.

“It's just a car,” Warren answered haughtily. His right leg limped, the rods were still in. Ororo looked at Warren and though that he is just like her – fought for life for all his life, but when the time had come to find a quiet corner, started to go crazy. The difference was Warren threw himself in fights, and Ororo just stopped sleeping. She couldn't just believe she had a roof over her head, plenty of food, clothes she liked and she needn't with one her eye open and a knife under the pillow.

“You like what, always drove the lx cars?” Ororo pushed Warren with her elbow and Warren made a grimace. When Warren changed his clothes – Ororo didn't peep, she just kept her eye on him – his ribs made a giant bruise, but it was a month ago. It looked like a month was not enough for Warren's bruises.

“You'll be okay at your wedding,” Ororo encouraged Warren. A long time ago, she had been beaten to the similar bruises. If you didn't die at one, it always healed – so what did Warren complain about?

“I have fallen off a helicopter,” Warren muttered between his teeth.

“And you are still alive,” Ororo reminded weightily. “Stop whining. Professor didn't pass us off, he gives us food, clothes, teaches us. Have you ever thought it all could have been that way?”

“At home,” Warren answered gloomily, “it has been much cooler. And my dad had more cars.”

“Gad!” Ororo stopped and frowned. Warren stopped, too, pretending it didn't hurt to stand upright and it didn't hurt to walk as well it wasn't worth blubbering. The problem was if Warren wanted to blubber it meant somebody else would – because of Warren. “Germans put you in the cage. If your dad if that damn rich, why didn't he made a fuss and save you?”

“Nobody had put me in the cage,” Warren blushed a little. Ororo couldn't get accustomed to his quick blushing, too. And she had never seen the skin so white that every vein seemed a tattoo, except Apocalypse tattoos at Warren's forehead and cheeks, unlike the metal on the wings, never came off. “I came on my own.”

“You dumbass or what?” Ororo rounded her eyes. Her sneakers were wet, water squishing inside. Wind whirred in the oak leaves and aside from the drizzle they were poured with the rainwater from the crowns. Warren raised his wings instinctively, protecting himself, so, in the end, they were not that kind wet – though it was enough moisture behind the collars.

“He wanted to cut off my wings,” Warren said, looking Ororo into the eyes with the expression of hopeless despair. “I can't live without them. They have spoiled everything. And I can't live without them.”

“Fight for the money is better?” Ororo raised her eyebrow.

“You are a street thief. And stop playing a mom, you understand?” Warren sudden;y became furious, blushing more. Even his neck went crimson like of a boiled lobster at the sea market. “Nobody takes my wings from me. Summers can laugh his guts out. I feel better, and I sort him out.”

Ororo took a deep and slow breath, but a peal of thunder high above the gray wispish clouds betrayed her. She was so tensed she stopped to blink, she wanted to hit Warren with the lightning so much, but again she held back, deciding she would eat the hell of the chocolate cookies once she was in the kitchen.

“You understand nothing,” Ororo said, straightening up and lifting her chip up. “Absolutely nothing. If your dad is right, your only problem is wings. My life is a problem from the beginning. From the beginning to the end. And I ma fucking happy I'm at the school, and Xavier is no rat, and I have a future. All you want is to yell and to get offended by shit. God, you piss me off.”

With those words, Ororo turned away and went to the back door decidedly, her feet squishing in the wet sneakers. Whatever Warren did, he could get to the kitchen by himself, if he had enough agility for fighting. Even though to look at him limping, jerking his wings, was pitiful and somehow... shameful.

It was shameful because Ororo wanted to hug him and to press his head to her chest. She wanted to lull him, unraveling his blond hair with her fingers. Eighteen years made him a grown man, Ororo knew men of the age who had children and families, and Angel was more like a boy. He killed a hell of a people, and Ororo still felt like if she stopped watching him, he would draw himself in a puddle.

“Hey,” Warren called her. “Munroe!”

Ororo lingered, her fists clenched. She wanted to tell Warren to piss off, but it was a thing to do at any time. Besides, she thought, if Warren told her some ordinary bullshit, she would had a chance to tell him where to piss off exactly, if she knew, what she was going to say.

“Whadda you want?” Ororo didn't turn to him, too much of an honor. He turned her head, it was enough for Warren.

Warren stood, his feet drawing in the mud of the walking path. His jeans were knee-deep in freshly cut grass, his nose was red and runny even though Warren was as rainy wet as Ororo. Opening and shutting his mouth like a fish he stood hanging upon his wings, trying to tell her what he was going to.

“Hurry up, I'm cold. You won't bring me chicken soup if I am ill,” demanded Ororo trying to hide her embarrassment. Warren behaved in a different way, and it frightened her. You could fight the whole world, but you couldn't get a hold of yourself and to calm down when... when the things happened.

“Would you go out with me if I asked you to?” Warren at last decided.

Ororo opened and closed her mouth. And opened. And closed. Looking uncomprehendingly at Warren's ragged wings at his red nose, his jeans, green from the grass, at the mud on his sneakers and torn knuckles, Ororo raised her hands like she was going to burst out with curses as a professional villain, she slapped her hips, shaking her head.

“Stop playing the ape,” Warren wound up quickly. At his face, several little veins extended, two at his temple, one across the forehead, and one on the cheek. “If you don't want to, I won't beg. When I fought, all the girls were mine. And you would be, too! I'm not going to be a cripple forever. Once I feel better, you regret, but it'll be too late!”

Ororo pursed her lips and gave Warren one of her most expressive gazes she had for the dumbest pickpocket boys. Normally, the gaze was followed by a cuff on a nape, but Warren stood too far for a cuff and blew up too seriously. His chest was moving, and his nostrils were flaring – he only lacked hooves to dig the ground.  
“Somebody has already asked you for going out,” Warren started impending, sniffing. “Who?”

Ororo was already going to tell Warren something nasty, but when she was ready to, she didn't want to do it anymore. Warren stood before her, in ten steps or less, swinging with tiredness and twitching with the pain in his healing bones – and still tried to take over her. It wasn't offensive at all. It was very funny.

“Nobody has asked me for it yet,” Ororo said, looking at Warren intensively. “And I would never go out with such an angry whiner like you, except I was ill or mad a little – liked him for no reason.”

“And I...” Warren went pale, maybe because of all of the blush came up and reddened his ears. “And you... Do you like me?”

“Erm... well... Like, yes,” Ororo confessed, feeling uncomfortable a bit. It was her turn to blush.

It took time for Warren to realize what had Ororo said. His frown forehead started to smooth, and his lips stretched in tremendous, stupid, pleased smile. He had already opened his mouth to say something extremely dumbass, but Ororo threw himself on him, nearly knocking him off his feet.

Ororo rushed into Warren and he had to grab her elbows to remain on feet. Ororo pressed her hands to Warren mouth and hissed into his face menacingly, “Don't. Don't even think about it. I'm not letting you spoil everything. If you want to hang out with me, do it handsome. If not, I'm not going anywhere with you. Understand?”  
Warren mumbled something in Ororo's hand and she put the hands away unwillingly, giving Warren a stern look in case he didn't understand it was a serious business. While Ororo threatened Warren, she didn't notice Warren was holding her with his both hands, and he did it not to hang over her.

“I am a hell of a kisser,” Warren informed her offhandedly. “No matter whom you kissed with, just forget about it. He is no match for me...”

He never had the chance to end the sentence. It was all because Ororo shut his mouth with hers while he didn't spoil all the romance for the second time. In the beginning, it was just a kiss with nothing special about it, nothing that Ororo hadn't done before. But when Warren grabbed Ororo and dig into her lips till it hurt, and... it was still nothing special about it. Ab-so-lu-te-ly nuthin."

Except Ororo's heart had beaten faster, and it became warm inside and so light like the feet were off the ground, flying into the storm high in the sky, light as a feather and shining like a sunlight, illuminated with happiness in the cradle of two giant caring wings – the Goddes of Thunder and Lightning Ororo Munro, who was finally asked for a date by that winged fool Warren Worthington.


End file.
